<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Like Troubled Water Running Cold by slightly_ajar</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061192">Like Troubled Water Running Cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar'>slightly_ajar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stable AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, PTSD, Stableverse, dad!Jack, teen!Mac</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac has a flashback of <i>before</i> and Jack raises the question of him question of seeing someone to talk.  </p><p>How Mac met Dr Amanda.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>set in dickgrysvn's Stablehands + Stable Homes AU and alongside violetvaria’s Stable AU</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Stable AU [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Stable_AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story happens just after <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128465/chapters/42861200"></a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The boy didn’t look like Mac, and yet. The sight of the dark haired, dark eyed bundle of energy had something as radiant as love and as raw as regret glowing in Jack’s chest. </p><p> “Look, daddy!” Six year old Curtis bounced on his horse's back and raised one hand to wave at his father, “Look! I’m riding!” </p><p> “You are, son,” Curtis’s father was grinning wide and proud. “You look like a real cowboy.” </p><p> “Like Woody!” Curtis tightened his hold on the reins in his hands with a look of delight. </p><p> “Or the Lone Ranger,” Jack suggested. </p><p>When the child’s response to that was a blank look Jack turned to his father, “I guess he’s much too young to know who that is.” </p><p> “I’m working on showing him the classics,” Curtis’s dad said, “The plan is to slowly get him to watch things that aren’t cartoons or YouTube videos of people playing Minecraft.” </p><p> “Good luck with that.” </p><p>Curtis was taking his first riding lesson and he was loving it.  He’d been bursting with curiosity since the moment he and his dad had walked through the stable’s door.  He’d wanted to look in every horses’ stall, climb the ladders to the hayloft, jump over a hay bale, touch every piece of tack and he asked approximately eleventy million questions.  Mac was busy in the office going over Bronte Feed’s delivery note to find what mistakes they’d made, again, because his attention to detail was more precise than Jack’s so Jack could indulge in wistful looks without worrying about how Mac might interpret them. </p><p>Jack wouldn’t change Mac.  Not ever. A different childhood would have made Mac a different kid and Jack didn’t want his son to be any other way than how he was.  And if Jack had met Mac before the day he’d stumbled into the stable after Bozer he might not have been ready to be his dad, and they would never have become a family. Jack couldn’t be sorry about how and when he and Mac had met. But.  To have had Mac come into his life when he was still as young and gleeful as Curtis, to fill his days with love and encouragement, to stop shadows from ever forming inside him and keep him happy and free from fear and doubt...  Jack watched the little boy in front of him and wanted that more than anything.  </p><p>During Jack’s momma’s first visit to the Dalton household after Mac’s adoption - after the fussing and baking and hugs - Jack had told her about his longing to fix what could never be altered. Jack and his mom had stayed up late talking after Mac was tucked up in bed and Jack had asked his mom how to not be paralysed by the need to make everything better for Mac.  He wanted to heal Mac’s past, make his present perfect and protect his future but he couldn’t. No one could.  It was too much.  He was only one man, an average if a little busted up cowboy, how could he ever do or be enough for his amazing kid? </p><p> “The answer to the first part of your question is simple, honey, you can’t, you just can’t fix the past,” Jack’s mom had said. “No one can. Not even the best parent in the world can do that. And by the way,” Bea Dalton cocked a finger at her son, “you are not the best parent in the world. Now before you get all offended,” she’d said as she'd taken Jack’s startled face in her hands, “no one is the best parent in the world, there’s no such thing. Everyone is making it up, making mistakes and making an ass of themselves so the sooner you let go of any notions of having to be flawless the better. You hear me?” </p><p> “Yes ma’am,” Jack had said, reeling from the rush of being shocked, hurt and comforted in quick succession and also from having just heard his mom say ‘ass’. </p><p> “And the other stuff? Baby, you've just got to do the best you can in the moment you’re in just like all the rest of the folks on the planet.” </p><p>Jack had known that his mom was right and tried to remember that when he was worrying about his parenting skills.  He wasn’t going to be a perfect dad and that was okay.  He could be a good one though, a loving one.  And he liked to think he could confidently claim to be a cool dad.  </p><p> “Can I go faster next time?  Can I jump over something?”  </p><p>Curtis was keen and quick to learn and he wanted to stay behind in the stable after his lesson ended to explore absolutely everything. </p><p> “Can I ride a really big horse? Can I learn to do some tricks?” </p><p>Only the promise of getting to tell his mom about everything he’d done via a visit to the ice cream store could encourage Curtis to leave the stable.  He ran out of the door yelling his flavour preference, ‘banana and chocolate!’ with his dad following and Jack turned to head into the office and see if his own son had finished wrangling with incompetence when he saw Mac stood in the office doorway wearing a stricken expression. </p><p> “Son?” </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Mac wondered how a company that made as many mistakes as Bronte Feeds did managed to stay in business.  He was sat with the list of items Jack had ordered and the delivery note detailing what had actually arrived in front of him surprised that Bronte Feeds managed to keep the lights on in their company office.  They always got something wrong, mixing up amounts, transposing weights, randomly missing items out or sending things Jack hadn’t ordered.  The snake food –frozen rats – had been both Mac’s least and most favourite mistake of theirs.  The unsettling look of the frozen rodents was worth seeing to witness the appalled expression on Jack’s face when he’d opened the box. </p><p>Sorting through the paperwork to find exactly what had gone wrong drove Jack crazy, he would be muttering darkly within five minutes of starting the task, so Mac volunteered to sort through the order while Jack gave a lesson.  Mac kind of enjoyed combing through the details to track down exactly where the mistakes were, he liked solving problems, and Jack was still hovering around him a little.  Mac was fully recovered from being laid low by mono but Jack didn’t seem convinced that he was completely well and kept peering into his face looking for signs of fever and fatigue thinking he was being subtle about it.  Mac thought that if he sat down with a cup of coffee Jack would see that as him having a rest and would stop worrying about him wearing himself out.  </p><p> “There’s a snake in my boot!” </p><p>Mac smiled at the enthusiastic call.  The little boy taking the lesson was having a wonderful time if the whoops and hollers Mac had heard – some of them in Jack’s voice - were to be believed.  </p><p> “Well done, partner, you did good today. Give me a high five.” </p><p>Mac shuffled the papers on the desk into order, took a last sip from his coffee cup and picked up the bridle that he’d fixed before he started working on the delivery paperwork.  He’d finished with the order and if the lesson was ending Jack might appreciate some help tidying up and feeding the horses.  He heard negotiations about ice cream between the boy taking the lesson and his father as he headed for the office door and wondered if the idea of a double scoop would stay with Jack and he’d suggest that he and Mac stopped to buy ice cream on the way home.  Mac pulled open the office door and what he saw when stepped into the stable drew him up cold. </p><p>He saw a little boy happily bouncing from the stalls to the hay bales over and over again and the back of a man who was stood talking with Jack.  The man was wearing a plaid shirt and cargo pants and with his stance, the slope of his shoulders and the way his greying hair had the start of a curl at the back of his head he looked just like... </p><p>James.  It was James. </p><p>James moved his arm to raise his hand and Mac felt himself pale.  The bridle he was holding slipped from his numb fingers. </p><p>His father had never been to the stable before. He’d never been interested in where Mac worked and Mac liked it that way.  But if he’d come.  If he was there.  Then something must have happened.  Mac tried to think if there was anything he was supposed to have done, if there was something he’d forgotten or if he’d made a mistake that would have prompted James to drive all the way to the stable when he should have been at work but Mac couldn’t think of anything and it was always worse if he didn’t know what he’d done wrong.  If his father had come to the stable he must be angry, furious even. And if he was angry...Mac felt the world lurch sideways and heard his breathing grow rapid and ragged. </p><p> “Son?” </p><p>Mac looked up at the figure moving towards him, as he drew closer Mac’s mind named the man ‘dad’ and he was terrified. </p><p>He was back in the house with cold rooms and a cold father where the best he could hope for was a cold greeting.  Back to the yelling and the figure looming over him, the hurting grip around his arm and the hard sting on his cheek. </p><p> “I’m sorry.”  Knees weak, Mac scurried backwards, his back hitting the solid wood of the office wall.  There was nowhere to go, the hallway was narrow and there was no way he could get past his dad.  Not that running would help, his dad would find him. Mac heard his name being bellowed and the sound of glass smashing as the tumbler that had been in his father’s hand shattered against the wall beside him. </p><p> “Son?” His dad reached a hand out towards him and Mac pressed himself backward harder, trying to make himself as small a target as possible, wanting to curl up into something so small that he vanished from his father’s sight. His ears were ringing with the pounding of his heartbeat and the sound of his father yelling. </p><p> “I didn’t mean to.”  There were already going to be marks on him that he’d have to lie about and his dad was still a hard pillar of fury that was too close and too loud. Mac couldn’t get away. He was trapped.  He was trapped and his dad was raging.  His dad was raging, out of control, screaming what he always threatened but it wasn’t just a threat anymore and Mac couldn’t breathe. </p><p> “I,” Mac flinched violently when his dad dropped down to crouch in front of him, the sharp smell of alcohol on his dad’s breath surrounded Mac and his stomach turned. “I didn’t mean to.” </p><p>Mac shuddered and tensed, knowing what was about to happen. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Jack looked over his shoulder, searching for whatever Mac had seen that had put the horrified look on his face.  The only thing Jack could see was Curtis and his father climbing into their car, there were no robbers, armed or otherwise, or anything else that could have explained Mac’s terrified expression.  Jack took a step towards him. </p><p> “Son?” </p><p>There had been other times when Mac had looked at Jack in fear. When Jack had arrived home to the crash of breaking glass and the sight of Mac perched on the kitchen counter way back when they’d started living together Mac had been frightened of what was going to happen but he hadn’t been afraid of Jack.  When Mac had looked at him Jack could tell that he was seeing a different person and a different time and wasn’t scared of him, not exactly, he was scared of what his experience told him the consequences of his actions would be.  But as Mac backed away from Jack then the look on his face told him that his son knew exactly who he was looking at and he was terrified.  It was devastating. </p><p> “I didn’t mean to,” Mac said, pressing himself back against the office wall. </p><p> “Whatever’s gone wrong we can fix it.” Jack moved towards Mac, reassuring, watching his son’s reactions carefully. “The order can’t have been that bad,” Jack forced a smile and tried for light-heartedness, “any delivery that doesn’t include rat popsicles is a win as far as I’m concerned.” It was like Mac hadn’t heard him, tremors were running over him and his eyes were wild and Jack suddenly understood what was happening.  “Aw, buddy.” </p><p>Jack had experienced flashbacks, not many, but he’d had them.  They hit with a breath-taking intensity that heightened every sensation and blurred the lines between reality and old trauma.  </p><p> “You’re okay, kiddo.  I’m just going to get a little closer to you. I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not even going to touch you, okay?”  Jack dropped to his haunches near where Mac was huddled and Mac flinched. </p><p> “I didn’t mean to,” Mac said, pale, terrified and lost and Jack wanted to pull him into his arms but he knew Mac wasn’t ready for that.  He was so trapped inside his memories that an embrace would have felt like an attack. </p><p> “I know you didn’t.  I believe you, it’s okay. It’s all okay, you know.” Jack settled himself more comfortably on the hard floor. “Everything’s okay.” He dropped his voice into a low, soothing tone, “You’re safe at the stable and there’s just me and you here. Well,” nodding back over his shoulder, Jack smiled, “you, me and the horses.  Can you hear them? Listen, kiddo, listen hard and you’ll hear them.  You’ll hear Pepper stompin’ and grumblin’ because her favourite boy hasn’t given her any attention for at least twenty minutes.” There was a whinny from over in the direction of the stalls, “That’s her reminding us that she’s there, as if we could ever forget.  You’ll hear Archie stomping and getting restless for his lunch and if you listen real carefully you’ll probably hear Crosby snoring.” </p><p>The empty look in Mac’s eyes hadn’t cleared but he wasn’t shaking as much as he had been.  Jack dared to hope that his words were getting through. </p><p> “And because we’re at the stable there’s plenty of this stuff everywhere.  Straw.” Jack gathered together some of the strands that inevitably found their way into every corner and let them fall against the back of one of Mac’s clenched hands.  “The stuff is as bad as sand for getting everywhere.  If I had a penny for every time I’ve had a bit stuck to me or cleaned it up only to find it’s drifted everywhere as soon as I’ve turned by back I could take us both on an around the world cruise.  Here.” Jack picked up the strands again and slowly brushed them against the back of Mac’s hands. “You can feel that can’t you.” He touched one of Mac’s palms with the straw and Mac pulled it into his grasp. “Now you know you’re in the stable, hmm?  You’re here and I’m here and you’re safe. ” </p><p>The fog in Mac’s eyes cleared and Jack knew that his son was coming back to himself.
</p><p> “You’ve always been safe here, son. And you always will be. I promise.” </p><p>Mac let out a gasp like he’d surfaced from a dive deep under the ocean. “Jack?” </p><p> “I’m right here, kiddo.” </p><p>Mac looked around him in confusion, still hunched into a frightened ball against the office wall. “What happened?” Fear crept back into Mac’s expression. “What did I do?” </p><p>Jack risked shuffling closer to Mac, who flopped towards him, so Jack put a gentle hand on the back of his son’s neck and pulled him close until his forehead was resting against Jack’s collar bone. “Nothing bad, buddy, you’re fine. I think you had a flashback.” Jack wasn’t sure if he should name what had happened to Mac while he was still vulnerable – the word flashback came with implications about trauma and mental health and he didn’t know how Mac would feel about what that label might suggest – but Mac didn’t know what had happened and he hated not knowing. “Lots of people have them. I have, you were there for the last one remember, when you and Bozer decided to risk losing fingers and made your own fireworks?   I think you got caught in an old memory, one from, you know, before.” </p><p>Mac shivered in Jack’s arms. “It was like I was there, I could feel everything. I couldn’t get away.” </p><p> “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.” Jack pulled Mac snug against his chest and Mac sagged against him, one hand clutching at Jack’s shirt with a white knuckled grip.  Jack knew how much being revisited by your demons took out of you, Mac needed to be somewhere comfortable where Jack could coddle him until he felt steady again.  “I think we better get you up off his floor, this isn’t the best place for us to be resting.  Your butt is go to go numb soon and my old bones are gonna start complaining.” </p><p> “Oh!” Mac tensed with a guilty start. </p><p> “Don’t fret, bud, I’ve got this.” Jack tucked one hand around Mac’s back and threaded the other under his knees and, bracing himself, stood with Mac cradled in his arms.  It was a sign of how drained Mac was that he didn’t complain.  If Jack had tried to pick Mac up at any other time he would have found himself on the end of loud and fervently sassy objections but Mac just pressed his face into Jack’s chest.  </p><p>The sofa in the office wasn’t far away and Jack quickly had Mac resting on it’s leather cushions tucked up in a blanket to his satisfaction.  He persuaded Mac to take a few sips from a bottle of water, he would have preferred to give him a hot drink but didn’t think that anything caffeinated was a good idea, and there wasn’t anything else to hand. Jack cursed himself for not thinking to get a jar of instant hot chocolate in for emergencies and made a mental note to buy one the next time he went to the store.  He tucked himself into the corner of the sofa behind Mac and arranged them so that Mac had his back against Jack’s chest and rested his chin on top of Mac’s head. </p><p> “So, kiddo, do you think you can tell me what happened?” Jack said when Mac had settled against him.  “Where do you think the flashback came from, is there something I need to change so it doesn’t happen again?” </p><p>Mac spent a few seconds fussing with the blanket covering him before answering.  “The man that was here with the little boy, I saw him when I came out of the office, he reminded me - there was something about him, the way he was stood and how his shirt looked on his shoulders - that reminded me of James.” Mac’s chest twitched under Jack’s arm as his breath hitched.  “I thought he was here and I got scared.  Thinking he was here made everything get all mixed up in my head, it was like I was back at my old house and something that happened there was happening again.” </p><p>Jack considered that.  He hadn’t seen a resemblance to James in Curtis’s father but he supposed he hadn’t been as hyper aware of James’s every move like Mac had. And if there had been something, no matter how small, that reminded Mac of his biological father that could easily have sent his mind spiralling, especially since he wasn’t a hundred percent recovered from being sick, no matter what he said.  </p><p> “Have you ever felt like that before, have you had any other flashbacks like this?” Jack asked.  Mac had never mentioned it happening but Mac was still struggling to allow Jack to see him as being less than in perfect health for fear of being a burden.  </p><p>Mac shook his head.  “Not like that.” His voice became soft as if the vulnerability of honesty would be gentled if his admission came quietly. “But sometimes I see things in my dreams, like I did when I was sick.  And sometimes I remember things or have thoughts that won’t go away.” </p><p>Jack only realised he was stroking Mac’s hair when he felt it’s softness against his hand, his fingers had just made their way there.  He wasn’t sure who the gesture was intended to comfort, him or his son.  </p><p> “Like what was happening before you got into the fight with Donnie?” Jack remembered the confrontation that had happened not far from where they were sat with Mac screaming that he couldn’t stop thinking about Jack hitting him. Thoughts of Jack hurting him had plagued Mac for days, gnawing at him and grinding him down until he’d eventually snapped and his pain had surfaced with him throwing punches at the school bully. </p><p> “Yes.” Mac pressed his cheek against Jack’s arm in what Jack thought was meant to be an apology.  “I don’t mean to be like this,” he added quickly. “I try to be better but sometimes I can’t stop the stuff that goes on in my head.” </p><p> “From what I recall me and you’ve had conversations about you being ‘better’.  In my memory those conversations have mostly featured me telling you that there isn’t a version of you that I’d like any more than the one I have now.”  Jack hated it when Mac told him that he would ‘do better’.  It never meant that he was happy to try again or to experiment with taking a new approach to what he was doing, the words were always used by Mac to say that he knew he wasn’t good enough but he was willing to tear himself to pieces trying to meet the vague and impossible standards he felt he measured badly against. </p><p>Mac didn’t respond to Jack, but he did tuck himself closer into the arm that was wrapped around his shoulder. </p><p> “But you have got me thinking about something we talked about the other day,” Jack had put the subject to the back of his mind but after what had just happened if felt like a good time to voice it again.  “Do you remember me asking you if you wanted to find someone to talk to about things – about before, and now and all the things you worry about?  How would you feel about that?” </p><p>Mac answered with a very loud silence. </p><p> “It’s not about making you ‘better’,” Jack explained. “Not like you’re thinking. It’s about healing, putting some things to rest and finding strategies to use when you start to get overwhelmed.  I won’t make you go if you don’t want to but I think it’s something that you ought to think on.  I don’t know much about giving advice, all I know is what works for me and what my momma’s told me. It’s probably worth speaking about your worries with an expert who went to university to get a certificate in Talking About Stuff.” </p><p>Jack thought that would get Mac’s attention.  Mac loved to learn and if the idea of speaking to a therapist was framed as a chance to learn something from an expert it could help convince him to do it. </p><p> “That might be good,” Mac said tentatively.  “I don’t want anything like this to happen again.” </p><p> “Me either son, I think you’re making a smart choice.” What if Mac had another flashback when he wasn’t with him, Jack thought.  What if he was at school, out with his friends, alone somewhere or, god forbid, driving the truck?  Jack tightened his hold on his son.  He would have to speak to Cassie’s mom and find contact numbers of some local therapists straight away. </p><p> “Okay.” Mac’s restless hands plucked at Jack’s fingers.  “I’m sorry, you’d had a nice lesson with that little boy and I’ve kind of messed things up.” </p><p> “I did have a good lesson with Curtis the Wannabe Rodeo Rider but that doesn’t mean what happened to you has spoiled anything.  One thing happened and then another thing happened, that’s all.  Nothing was ruined.  Unexpected things go on around here all the time, they just usually involve nine hundred pounds of horse flesh and often end up with me having to shovel something evil smelling.  At least when something happens with you I’ve get to have a hug.” </p><p>Mac gave a small, brave huff of laughter. “Doesn’t Pepper ever want to cuddle?” </p><p> “Not with me, she usually just wants food or a scratch behind the ear. Which is probably for the best because I don’t know how you would snuggle with her without getting crushed.” </p><p> “I won’t tell Pepper you said that she’s heavy.” </p><p> “Good, because that diva doesn’t forgive and never forgets.” </p><p>Mac was loose limbed against Jack, tired but not broken, and Jack placed a kiss on the top of his son’s head. </p><p> “You okay, kiddo?” </p><p> “Yes, I’m okay.” </p><p>Which meant ‘I’m not terrified and reliving past abuse anymore, I’m exhausted from dealing with bad memories but I’m trying, I know you love me and because I love you I’ll be as strong as I can be so you won’t worry’.  Jack wanted to tell Mac that he didn’t have to try to be strong, that he could falter and Jack would take his weight, but there are days that are got through by everyone trying to be strong for everyone else and if that’s what Mac needed Jack would give it to him. </p><p> “Good.  I don’t have a lessons anytime soon so why don’t me and you just stay here like this for a while?” </p><p> “I’d like that,” Mac said.  </p><p>Jack closed his eyes and held his son. </p><p> “Jack?” A little voice asked. </p><p> “Hmm?” </p><p> “Could you tell me one of your stories?  One about something funny you did when you were younger?” </p><p>Jack chuckled. “A Jack Dalton story is certified to absolutely bring cheer to any unhappy situation.” He hummed as he thought through which story to tell Mac, the first one he thought of was bittersweet and wouldn’t lift the mood in the way Jack wanted, the second was a bit too risqué to tell his teenage son but the third story Jack dredged up from his Anthology of a Misspent Youth and Other Tales of Heroism, Handsomeness and Daring Exploits was perfect. </p><p> “So, when I was a little older than you I knew a guy,” Jack wiggled in his seat, getting comfortable, “he was a solid guy, a bit blurry around the edges but he was a buddy and you know how that goes?  Anyways, he calls me up one day and tells me that he’s managed to get hold of a canister of helium and a truck load of balloons...” </p><p>Mac listened, Jack words calming the white tipped rapids rushing through his mind. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mac liked Doctor Amanda.  She seemed nice.  She’d greeted him with a warm smile then sat opposite him with an open posture in an office carefully arranged to be neutral and non-threatening, and Mac was more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being.  He was so tense his skin was prickling and the likelihood of it vibrating off his body and crawling away felt very real. </p><p>Mac and Jack had looked through the list of therapist that Jack had been given and had chosen Doctor Amanda as their favourite.  When they’d gone to meet her she’d been friendly and professional, and Mac had decided that he would start seeing her to talk.  He hadn’t had any more flashbacks since the one in the stable but the memory of it and the potential for it to happen again sat heavily in the back of his mind. He knew the possibility worried Jack too.  So there Mac was, in Doctor Amanda’s office, sat primly on her sofa for his first session with her. </p><p> “Would you like me to go over the agreement you and I have again?” Doctor Amanda asked. </p><p> “Yes, please.” Mac remembered what she’d told him when he’d visited the office with Jack but one of them had to start talking and going over the ground rules they’d agreed on felt like a safe place to start. </p><p> “Okay.  Everything you tell me in here is confidential,” Doctor Amanda said with a dip of her head, “I will never tell your father, your school or anyone else anything you’ve said to me.  I’m obliged to act if you say something that gives me cause to be concerned that you’re about to harm yourself or someone else but other than in those circumstances everything you say in this room stays in here.” </p><p> “Good – that’s good,” Mac said. </p><p> “And you can tell me anything.  I don’t want you to worry about offending or shocking me and I’m not going to tell you to mind your language or correct your grammar. Nothing is too big or too small for to you talk about.” </p><p>Mac nodded, any reply he would have made caught in his throat. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>During the drive to Doctor Amanda’s office Jack had pulled up at a stop sign and given Mac a significant look. </p><p> “You want to tell me that everything is going to be okay with Doctor Amanda,” Mac had blurted out at the sight of Jack’s bunched eyebrows. “And that I should be willing to give seeing her a try.  That I don’t have to keep going if I hate it, that there’s no shame in seeing a therapist and that you're proud of me for asking for help.” </p><p> “You're making me sound very smart there, bud.”  Jack said as he started the truck again, “According to you I’m full of good advice. Are you going to be taking any of it?” </p><p> “Yes, all of it, it’s just that,” Mac thudded his head back against his seat, staring up at the metal roof above him, “lots of people have had really bad things happen to them, lots of people are really struggling.  What if - I’m - I’m fine, really.  I’m with you and everything’s great.  Maybe I should just – I shouldn’t be so...what if I don’t really need, you know, there are other people who probably need help more than I do, what if I’m not...if I’m not...” </p><p> “You’ve seen those games they have in arcades, right?  Like Pac Man and Space Invaders?”  Jack interrupted Mac’s spiralling ramble and, confused, Mac answered with an ‘uh huh’.  “If you play those games for a long time, blow up a truckload of aliens and score enough points, you get to put your name on the leader board,” Jack continued.  “It takes a chunk of time and practice to be good enough at a game to be able to write your name up there with the other high scorers.  You have to put the hours in and work your way right through the really hard levels, don’t you?” </p><p> “I guess,” Mac said, still none the wiser as to where Jack was going with his analogy. </p><p> “Needing to talk isn’t like that.  You don’t have to collect enough trauma points or bad memory tokens or whatever to earn your place with someone who can help you.  If you want to talk through your troubles you should get to talk through your troubles.  Simple.” Jack gave the steering wheel a definitive rap with one hand.  “And if you ask me, most of the people I’ve met could have done with seeing a professional to untangle some of the twists and turns they have in their heads.  Everyone could do with talking to someone.  I don’t think you can be in the world without the world making you need that at least a little bit.” </p><p> “But-” Mac frowned out of the passenger side window, looking at all the people he was passing who weren’t going to meet with their therapist. </p><p> “Because you’re with me and you’re safe and happy you shouldn’t have anything to complain about?” Jack interrupted again. </p><p> “Yeah.” Mac shrugged. “If it was <i>before</i> then that would be different but I’m okay now. Things aren’t bad, I don’t need help like I did back then.” </p><p> “Just because you’re okay that doesn’t mean that you’re okay. I mean, you are okay, but you’re not okay too, and just because you’re not as not okay as you used to be that doesn’t mean you aren’t still not okay, and that’s okay.” Jack’s brow furrowed as he thought his statement through. “What I’m saying is you don’t have to feel guilty about talking to Doctor Amanda.  You aren’t getting anything you don’t deserve or taking something from anyone else. See?” </p><p> “I see,” Mac said. </p><p> “Really?”  Jack laughed, “I’m not sure I understood all that and I’m the one who just said it!” </p><p>Mac laughed too, which could have been Jack’s intention all along. </p><p> “Like you just said I’d say, everything will be fine with Doctor Amanda, you should give seeing her a try because what have you got to lose?  If you really hate seeing her you can stop and we’ll find someone else because there’s no shame in wanting to talk about the things that worry you. I am proud of you for telling me that you’d like some help, I know you don’t find that kind of thing easy.” Jack gave a pleased harrumph, “I do give good advice don’t I?” </p><p>The road signs Mac could see out of his window told him they were almost at Doctor Amanda’s office. “It will be okay won’t it?” Mac asked, referring to his appointment but also to everything else, everything that wasn’t in the truck with him and Jack.  He knew it wasn’t fair to ask Jack to promise him that everything everywhere would be all right, no one should be expected to do that because it isn’t a promise anyone can keep, not even Jack, as much as he wanted to, but Mac couldn’t stop himself from needing reassurance just then. </p><p> “Of course.” </p><p>Mac wondered how deeply the sureness Jack answered with ran.  Mac wondered if Jack was saying everything would be okay because he thought it was what Mac wanted to hear rather than because he believed it.  Mac wondered if he would ever be able to stop wondering about everything all the time.  </p><p>Maybe that was something he should talk about with his therapist. </p><p>Jack flicked the indicator on and Mac listened to it click in the silence that fell as the truck turned into the car park of the address they’d been headed to. </p><p> “Here we are,” he said. </p><p> “Everything will be okay, kiddo.”  Jack rested a hand on the back of Mac’s head and Mac leant into his warm palm a little.  “Even if things aren’t okay right now, like if it turns out that despite appearances Doctor Amanda is actually the Wicked Witch of the West, we’ll find someone else. Eventually, one way or another, things will be okay, honest.” </p><p>Jack had promised, and he knew it was stupid but it helped Mac walk through the door of the office and sit down on Doctor Amanda’s sofa. </p><p><br/>
</p><p> “Do you have any questions?” Doctor Amanda asked. </p><p> “You don’t have a clipboard.” Mac gestured to her empty hands.  “I thought you’d be writing notes or something.” </p><p> “I might make some notes on what we’ve talked about after you’ve gone but I don’t write anything down during our session.   I wouldn’t want anyone scribbling down what I’ve said while I’m talking,” Doctor Amanda wrinkled her nose up in distaste, “would you?” </p><p> “No. But -” Mac pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, “but I have written a list, it’s of things I want to talk about and – it’s the things I want to stop doing – like, why I decided to come here.” </p><p>The night before his appointment had been a restless one.  Mac had tossed and turned for hours, twisting his sheets into knots almost as tangled as the thoughts churning in his mind, until he turned on his bedside lamp and reached for a pen and a notebook.   He wrote down all the things he wanted Doctor Amanda to help him with, carefully refining the list down to the roots of what he felt his problems were.  Having the words somewhere other than in his mind had helped and he’d eventually been able to drift off to sleep.  The list had sat in his pocket since he and Jack had left their house with Mac hoping it would help him be brave enough to find the words to tell Doctor Amanda what he wanted.  The writing on the paper that Mac spread over his thigh, swiping one hand over it to flatten out the folds, read: </p><p> <span class="u">“Things I want from talking to Doctor Amanda</span></p><p>No more flashbacks</p><p>To stop overthinking things</p><p>To stop having nightmares</p><p>To stop getting bad thoughts stuck in my head</p><p>To stop being scared that Jack won’t want me anymore” </p><p>Mac had thought about numbering the items on the list, with the things he wanted to deal with first at the top, but he’d realised he didn’t know which of the problems was the biggest.  Maybe if he stopped overthinking things he wouldn’t have any more nightmares, and if he stopped getting unsettling thoughts trapped in his head he might stop worrying that Jack would get tired of how much work he was and wouldn’t want him anymore.  The things on the list were all bound up with each other and it was hard to know which one needed dealing with before the others.  That was the kind of thing that Doctor Amanda might know about.  </p><p> “Those are the things I want to fix.”  What had been comforting and reasonable in the middle of the night felt foolish when Mac looked down at the paper in his lap. “I thought a list might help,” he added, trying not to squirm with embarrassment.  </p><p> “You’ve thought about goals, that was actually something I was going to discuss with you.” Doctor Amanda’s expression was full of reassurance.  </p><p> “You were?” Mac asked, “Do you want it?” he held the list out to her. </p><p> “Thank you.” Doctor Amanda took the paper and laid it on the arm of the chair next to her. “This is a good start and it gives us something to look back on when we want to discuss progress.” </p><p>Mac pressed his lips together and nodded, mollified a little.  He hadn’t got that wrong after all. </p><p> “You can’t fail anything in here,” Doctor Amanda said, as if she’d understood Mac’s tense gesture.  “There are no right and wrong answers, there’s just what you think and feel.  If you think something or you don’t feel something else that’s fine.  I don’t have a check list that I’m going to mark you against then send you home with an F on your report card.” </p><p> “Jack says something like that, he says he wants to know what I think, that whatever I’m feeling can’t be wrong and that if he wanted to live with someone he kept around to tell him the right answers he’d have adopted Wikipedia.” Mac smiled to himself, “Except he doesn’t say Wikipedia, he called it ‘that witchy-media place on the internet that everyone looks stuff up on’ but it’s what he means.” </p><p> “Witchy-media?” </p><p> “That’s what he says.” </p><p>Doctor Amanda looked off into the mid distance as she considered the phrase, she smiled and turned back to Mac.  “I like that.” </p><p> “Me too.”  The tension in Mac’s shoulders eased a fraction.  He liked Doctor Amanda.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Jack didn’t like waiting rooms. </p><p>He wasn’t overly fond of waiting, truth be told. Not for things like this. </p><p>Not that he’d done a lot of things like ‘this’. </p><p>He wanted Mac to be okay.  Mac wasn’t okay.  The fact that they were both in a therapist office meant that he wasn’t okay.  Jack’s son was sad, scared and haunted and Jack couldn’t fix that.    </p><p>Well, he could, and he was.  He’d brought his son to a place where there was someone who knew how to help him.  Doctor Amanda had seemed nice, she had a list of qualifications against her name that read like a bad scrabble game (MA, Ph.D,  ABCCAP Certified), everything he’d read about her was positive and Jack felt cautiously optimistic she would be good for Mac.  But she couldn’t help him with the wave of a magic wand, it would take work and time spent revisiting the things that made Mac feel sad and scared and haunted. </p><p>Jack rubbed his palms over his jeans and tried not to twitch too much.  </p><p>The four other people scattered around the waiting room all looked much calmer than Jack felt.  One of the people was reading a book, two others were looking at their phones and the forth was knitting with a cheerful yellow wool that made Jack guess that whatever was being created was destined to keep a baby warm.   The knitting needles were clicking rhythmically and Jack watched the back and forth of the person’s hands for a moment letting the motion soothe him.   He’d tried fiddling with his phone while he’d been sat but none of the games or websites he’d looked at held his attention.  He was torn, uncomfortably oscillating between the urge to rush into action, pace, run, shout, kick down doors and maybe slide over the hood of a car because that always looks cool on TV, and the need to lie supine on the hardwood floor beneath his feet, relaxing into the flat surface and allowing everything happening around him to just be.  Wanting to help his son and letting his son be helped had led him to an unexpected place of not impotence (never impotence, excuse you) but inaction that didn’t suit his nature and Jack didn’t know how to channel the residual adrenaline that had left him with. </p><p>He suddenly missed Diane very much.  She’d sent him a text saying <i>‘Thinking about you both, I hope everything goes okay, I’ll speak to you later xxx’</i> and while it was good to know that she was thinking about him Jack would have liked to have her beside him, her hand in his hand, her weight just resting against his arm.  She wouldn’t even had to touch him, having her there beside him would have been steadying enough.  He would call her later, he would tell her how the day had gone and she would say something kind and funny and make him feel part to something good and real. </p><p>During his and Dianne’s date a few days before Jack had found himself staring into the depths of his cappuccino as if it held the answers to life’s most profound questions. </p><p> “I don’t think you’ll find it in there.” </p><p>When Jack had jerked his head up he’d found Diane smiling at him. “What?” </p><p> “Whatever it is that you’re looking for.” </p><p> “Do you ever wish,” Jack stirred the remains of the foam and brown sugar in his cup into marbled swirls, “that a grown up would come and sort everything out?  I know I’m an adult and a father - being Mac’s dad was my choice and I wouldn’t change that – but do you ever want someone who’s more mature than you to show up and tell you what the right thing to do is?” </p><p> “All the time,” Diane shook her head with a self-deprecating snort, “sometimes more than once a day if a big bill comes in or the washing machine starts making a strange noise. I don’t expect that to ever stop.  I think everyone would like a more grown up grown up to take care of things for them every now and then.” </p><p> “A more grown up grown up?” </p><p> “Yes, an adult-ier adult.  You know, someone who actually knows what they're doing rather than me - someone who only has an idea of what might work is hoping no one will notice that I’m guessing.” </p><p> “That’s parenting for you.” </p><p> “That’s life.” Jack and Diane shared a rueful eye roll.  “You’re thinking about Mac.” Diane added. </p><p>Jack rearranged the contents of his cup into small mountains of white. “It’s all so out of my hands.  If I knew that his first appointment with Doctor Amanda would be tough on him I could get ready for that but I don’t know if it will be, it might all go just fine.  I hope that’s what’ll happen and it’s the hope that’s getting to me.  I want Mac to be all right, I have a hope that he could be and if he isn’t the disappointment will be rough.” </p><p>A mound of foam was flattened with an angry tap from the back of Jack’s spoon.  He wanted Mac to be happy so he himself wouldn’t be disappointed, he didn’t like hoping his son would be okay because he didn’t want to feel bad if that didn’t happen - that sounded so selfish and stupid.  </p><p> “Elwood would promise to change,” Diane said with slow carefulness. “He’d swear that everything would be different and I used to listen to him because I hoped he loved us enough to really try to be better. Hope is...” Diane let out a sigh heavy with darkening shades of regret, “intoxicating. It’s tempts you with promises that are fragile but possible, so even though you know those promises could be broken you also know you could get to have what you want.  Hope is tricky - you need to really think about what you actually want and what you have to do to get it.  I hoped that Riley and me would be happy and what I eventually realised was that we needed to leave Elwood to have that.” </p><p>The rest of Jack’s cappuccino foam was swatted into submission as he thought about the pure essence of what he wanted. “I just want Mac to be okay, I want him to feel happy and healed.” </p><p> “He will.  You’re doing everything you can to make that happen.  His appointment won’t be as bad or as good as you think, it’ll be fine.” Diane reached over the table and plucked Jack’s teaspoon from him, then took his hand.  “And neither of you are doing this alone.” </p><p><br/>
</p><p> “Thank you.” </p><p>Jack heard Mac’s voice as the door to the waiting room opened.  It was time to be an adult.  </p><p>He made himself stand like a reasonable person and not jump up like a scared family member in an ER waiting room desperate to hear if a loved one had pulled through life saving surgery.  Studying Mac as he walked towards him showed Jack that his son didn’t have red eyes so he hadn’t been crying, and he didn’t look shaken or afraid. A spark of relieved optimism glimmered in his chest. </p><p> “Kiddo?” </p><p>Mac gave Jack a nod that was...completely normal, so it told Jack nothing about his mental and emotional state.  </p><p>”Are you ready to go home?” </p><p> “Yes.” </p><p> “Good.  Right.  Excellent.” Jack was unable to resist throwing his arm around his son’s shoulders and squeezing so Mac was squashed against him when he led them to the door.  </p><p>Jack let go when they reached the truck so they could climb in.  He had been reluctant to but his reserved son might not have appreciated being questioned about how he was feeling while stood in a parking lot.  </p><p> “Was it okay? Are you okay?” Jack asked as soon as the truck’s door closed behind him. “Do you want to go back because if you didn’t like Doctor Amanda we can find someone else, I’ve been thinking about the other people we haven’t seen yet and...” </p><p> “It was fine, Doctor Amanda is nice.” </p><p> “So you’re okay then? You didn’t talk about anything that made you feel bad?” </p><p> “We mostly talked about ground rules and about you, my friends and school and stuff.” </p><p> “You talked about me?” That pulled Jack up short. Which made no sense when he thought about it.  Why wouldn’t they talk about him – he was Mac’s dad? Still... </p><p> “Well, yeah,” Mac fiddled with the zip of his jacket, “we talked about the stuff in my life and you’re a big part of my life.” </p><p> “That’s fair,” Jack said, because it was.  He started the truck and pulled into the street. </p><p> “I didn’t say anything bad, about you that is,” Mac told Jack, “you don’t have to worry about that.” </p><p> “You can say what you like about me, and everything else, that’s the point of the whole therapy extravaganza.  How about this,” Jack offered, glad to be given a chance to say this to Mac, “if at any point - and I know that the chances of this happening are teeny tiny itsy bitsy - but if I ever do anything that’s less than one hundred percent cool and awesome I hereby give you permission to tell Doctor Amanda about it.” </p><p>Mac’s smile was bright with fondness, “I’ll remember that, thank you.” </p><p>From the faraway look on Mac’s face Jack guessed he was processing the last hour, considering everything he’d said, thought and felt and Jack decided to let that happen in peace.  He turned the truck’s radio on, he would give Mac relative peace at least.  If they sat in silence it could become uncomfortable and Jack didn’t want his son feeling like he had to share before he was ready.  He took a breath as the opening chords of Sweet Child ‘O’ Mine came from the radio and got ready to sing along while his son frowned and thought. </p><p>They were only a few step inside the house, the front door hadn’t quite clicked closed behind him, when Jack invoked Rule Number One.  </p><p> “We’re home so that means I get to do this.” Jack tugged Mac into his arms and pulled him close, closing his eyes and trying to breathe in the nearness of his son, drawing him in where he could be shielded by his arms and his love.  “I get to hold you as much as I want, remember?” </p><p> “I don’t think there’s ever a chance of me forgetting that,” Mac joked but he nestled against Jack.  Jack felt him relax. </p><p>There had been a lot of talking that day.  There had been talking, planning and deciding in the time leading up to it so Jack opted for silence, he let his supporting, loving hold on his son tell him what he wanted him to know. </p><p>After a minute of silent, unconditional hugging Mac spoke.  “You were as worried about today as I was weren’t you?” </p><p> “No.” </p><p> “When you said no just then you meant yes didn’t you?” </p><p> “No.” </p><p> “That’s cleared everything up, thanks.” </p><p> “I don’t think you can sass someone while you're hugging them,” Jack said into Mac’s hair, “I think one of those things cancels the other one out, like when you press two magnets together.” </p><p> “When you do what with magnets?” Mac twitched in Jack’s arms like he’d thought about pulling back to look up at him in confusion. </p><p> “Squish them together,” Jack would have waved his hands to demonstrate two things being pushed towards each other but that would have meant letting go of Mac, “when you squash magnets together it makes them not magnetic anymore because don’t stick to each other do they? Or maybe that’s not it,” Jack pondered, “something nutty happens, anyway it doesn’t matter - magnets aren’t important - my point is that I am immune to your snark while you’re hugging me. It’s a science thing. And a dad thing.  And a me and you think so you are zero for three there, buddy.” </p><p> “Wow, it sucks to be me right now.” Jack could tell that Mac meant the opposite of what he’d just said too. </p><p> “Cry me a river there, snarky britches.” Neither Jack nor Mac moved from their embrace, neither of them showed signs of wanting to. “Are you really okay, kiddo?” Jack all but whispered. </p><p> “Yeah, I think so.” Mac’s voice was soft but clear. “Doctor Amanda was fine.  I still feel a bit weird about needing to see her but I’m glad I decided to go.  I think it will be worth it.” </p><p> “That’s a mature thing to say, Hoss, you sound almost like a grown up.” </p><p>Mac was acting like a grown up grown up, choosing a path that would get tough along the way but would be worth the struggle.  Jack had wanted a more adult-ier adult to turn up and help show him what to do but he never thought that person would come in the form of his son. </p><p> “If I’m so mature does that mean I can drive the GTO when I take Katie out on a date this weekend?” </p><p> “Steady on there, Casanova, I said you sounded mature, I didn’t say you were ready for the profound and deadly serious responsibility of driving my beautiful car.” </p><p> “Can I take it the date after that then?” </p><p> “That would still be a no.” </p><p> “The next one after that?” </p><p> “The more you ask that question the less grown up you sound, if you keep going you’ll get less and less mature by the second and I’ll have to send you to pick up young Katie on a bike with training wheels.” </p><p> “She’d think that was cute.” </p><p> “Lord, she would wouldn’t she? Kids these days are weird,” Jack lamented.  Things really had changed, he was pretty sure that Marcia Bell only agreed to go out with him in the twelfth grade because he told her he’d pick her up in his dad’s Shelby Cobra, but that was a story Jack wasn’t going to share with his son.  “I’ll tell you what, you keep talking like that and give it five or ten more years then I might let you take Katie to the movies in the car.” </p><p> “That’s great, thanks.” </p><p> “That’s my final offer, if you don’t like it you can always tell your therapist.” </p><p>Mac snorted, “Funny.” </p><p> “What,” Jack playfully nudged his son, “too soon?” </p><p> “No, I’d rather joke about it than be all careful and serious.” </p><p> “That’s smart,” Jack said, quickly adding, “You’re still not getting the keys to the car though.” </p><p> “I suppose I’ll have to learn to live with that,” Mac sighed dramatically. </p><p>Eventually, Jack and Mac would let go of each other.  They’d make dinner, watch TV, change into their pyjamas and sleep until the next day began and they’d started working and learning all over again.  There would be more sessions with Doctor Amanda, and maybe some of them wouldn’t be as easy as the one that day, but they would help Mac reach the peace Jack hoped he would find.  Jack knew that peace was out there waiting for Mac to discover it like sea glass on a beach, and Jack knew that he would just have to wait as each jagged shard was smoothed by the ocean and left for his son in the sand. </p><p>Jack didn’t like waiting, but some things couldn’t be rushed.  Ocean currents could boil and dash but they could also wash and flow, and if they both kept a weather eye on the tides there was no reason to think that he and Mac wouldn’t be just fine. </p><p> “Like pirates,” Jack said out loud. </p><p> “What?” Mac asked. </p><p> “Nothing.  I was just thinking about the ocean, and sailing, and navigating stormy seas.” </p><p> “Oh.  Okay.” Mac clearly had no idea what Jack was on about but didn’t see the point in asking.  </p><p>Eventually they would let go of each other but until then Jack was happy to keep holding his son.  He’d hold and he’d hope because that was the best he could do, and luckily that was just what Mac needed. </p><p> “Are you okay?” Mac tentatively asked his dad. </p><p> “I’m good,” Jack told his son, “everything’s good.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The story title comes from the song Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>